Deathwish
by Swythangel
Summary: FantasyAU Yaoi 3x4 The Bright Child turns to the Dark...will Trowa be able to save him?
1. Default Chapter

Deathwish Author: Swythangel   
Email: swythangel@hotmail.com   
Title: Deathwish   
Rating: PG (for shounen ai content)   
Warnings: Strong Language, Yaoi, Fantasy AU   
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is owned by Bandai and the person who created the bishounens (who should be worshipped for making Quatre) I am just having my fun with them borrowed boys! Ahohoho!   
Archive: In my yaoi site, once its up.

I haven't started on any of my other series fics yet on any fandom. ^-^ I know I ought to die for that but its useless to write when I don't have the drive. I'm in the mood for an angst session and this came out of nowhere. I hope you guys like it if not...well c'est la vie then.   


  
****

**Deathwish**   
**Teaser**

I sweep through the scorched field with nary a glance at the carnage wrought by yet another war. The copper iron scent of blood was rife in the air, evidence of the extent of the damages.

I have had my fill of this, having been here since its beginning, so many years ago.

Here and there a limb twitched or a voice groaned out and I stop once in awhile to give relief to a chosen few. These pain-filled souls called to me and normally I would be more merciful. But not today. Today they are not the reason why I walk this road.

As I continue on, deep into the heart of where the main battle had taken place, I hear it, the distant humming of power building.

"By immortal blood freely spilled, I release you from the chains that bind you. Out of time and out of space, return to the mortal plane that spawned you!"

I feel a rip from my very being as I see a robed figure cut his arm to let the blood spill to the ground, the ruby drops soaking into the glowing runes he had etched into the dirt, invoking an old spell from the realms of the forbidden.

The runes glow madly, pulsing to a beat unknown in the living world and a lurid red mist comes out from the ground to envelop the area surrounding the robed figure.

The lifeless bodies that littered the ground in his vicinity start to move. First a twitch then they try to stand, some stumbling as hacked off limbs fail to support them. But still they try, in an obscene awkward pseudo-dance that spoke of unthinking obedience. In my head screams resound in torturous tones, a silent protest as the corpses move to unwillingly obey the person that bound them from attaining final rest.

In the middle of this grotesque tableau, he stands calmly, watching his undead army struggle. Master of the dark forbidden arts, one who disturbs the natural order of living...Necromancer. This particular necromancer started this senseless war so many years ago. HE is the reason why I walk this night.

I approach him in silence but even before I open my mouth to speak, he senses my presence and preempts me without even turning around to face me.

"Ah, Trowa, you have come to watch our little tableau. Good. It wouldn't have been complete without you. You're a little late though, I was beginning to think that you wouldn't arrive. That would have been a pity."

There is little emotion in his voice, much like one of those talking golems the wood dryads amuse themselves with. It hadn't been like that once. There was a time when his voice had been as vibrantly alive and bright as Helios himself. A time when he would have thrown his arms around me and greeted me with a smile.

//Trowa! Trowa! You came to visit me. Come on in.You've been gone for so long.//

He is different now. I cannot even gauge how he is feeling.

"Why do you do this?" I ask.

Finally, after years of trying to prevent him from doing this in silent torment, I finally have the courage to ask him this.

"Isn't it painfully obvious? I am a necromancer, Trowa, and this, if you haven't noticed, is what necromancers do." His voice contains a hint of sarcasm in it, a strange tone on his liquid voice. He used to be so innocent.

"You were once the golden child."

Silence. He does not deign to answer but I still wait, full of hope.

A wayward breeze flutters through the scorched land, easing its burning surface for a cooling second. I close my eyes and let it past through me as well. Like the land, I feel scorched...pained.

When I open my eyes, I see that the breeze has blown off his cowl and he did not make any effort to put it back on. I drink in the features before me.

Skeins of golden strands reminiscent of sunshine glow in the dismal sky as they flutter in the breeze and his features, even in their cold emotionless state, still look as innocent and pure as he did so many years ago.

Bright Child, last son of the mother goddess, immortal beloved of all living things...

I see the past...

"You were once so different..."

So very different.

I can recall how he wouldn't even let me harm an ant in his presence, recall long hours spent crying over the loss of a bird carelessly killed by a wayward arrow. He had been so gentle...

"You were once beloved of all things."

"Once!" He snarled out. "Once beloved of all things, of all people, once beloved of one whom I loved above all others. ONCE! No longer!"

He sweeps his hands violently downwards in a gesture of finality, his eyes blazing for a second before the fire banks and cold dead stones replace the sparkling orbs once again.

"Now I only live to make you rue the day you chose to walk this path."

With that he strides out into the fields, crooking a finger at his grotesque "army" to follow him. No one makes a move to stop him because there is no one left but he and I and the lifeless bodies that he had brought to life again.

I stand in shocked silence looking at him with sorrowful eyes.

He had never once looked at me.

Have I been so wrong? Perhaps I should not have chosen as I did that day, years ago. If I didn't, would all this carnage, this senseless war, the fear, the despair...would all these stop?

I had only been trying to protect the one I loved. Was that so wrong?

::It is. It always is, when you go against the Fates.::

But at that time, it had felt so right...

TBC (hopefully, if you guys like it ^-^)   



	2. Bright Child

suiko2 Author: Swythangel   
Email: swythangel@hotmail.com   
Title: Deathwish   
Rating: PG (for shounen ai content)   
Warnings: Strong Language, Yaoi, Fantasy AU   
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is owned by Bandai and the person who created the bishounens (who should be worshipped for making Quatre) I am just having my fun with them borrowed boys! Ahohoho!   
Archive: In my yaoi site, once its up. 

Yipee! This is going faster than all of my fics combined. Angst fests are myfave! 

**Deathwish**   
**Part 1** ****

Maybe everything should start at the beginning. And the beginning is Quatre.

Born of the Mother goddess and her mortal lover, Quatre had been nothing special. Beautiful certainly, for both his parents possessed unusual beauty, and so innocently trusting and helpful, but nothing out of the ordinary. Until one looked into his cerulean eyes.

Those eyes…all who looked at him loved him. From the Mother Goddess herself to the least living creature on the surface of the world, all sought to protect this mortal child.

Out of her love, the Mother Goddess bestowed on him partial immortality. He would remain young and would never die of old age, However, death could still take him if someone killed him. As powerful as the Mother Goddess was, she could not totally erase her son's mortal side. To do so would be tantamount to killing him herself. Even she could not change the nature of things.

To compensate for this, the Mother Goddess extracted a pledge from all things and creatures of the world, a pledge not to cause harm to her beloved son. And every thing and creature, much enamored of the boy, had agreed. Everything and everyone save the Fates and Death who were outside the natural order of things and cannot give such a pledge.

That done, the Mother Goddess was contented. Her son would never die for even Death cannot take the life of one without a reason and she had taken away all the reasons.

Heart at peace, she ensconced Quatre in a pavilion in the woods and visited him when she wished.

And this was where I came in…

***

I had become curious of the boy who had this ability to make everyone love him and so I journeyed forth into the woods where he lived. Through the thickly canopied woods I walked until finally I saw the pavilion, sitting prettily in the sunshine flittering in through the leaves.

To my surprise, it was deserted. I had been expecting the boy to be inside, lounging about. But he wasn't. I surmised that he would be back, maybe he had gone walking in the woods.

He came back alright. Much much later than I had imagined he would, just as I decided to leave, walking into the darkened hall where I waited, dragging his feet in what I would call exhaustion.

He didn't see me at all. Not that it was surprising. I had this tendency to blend in with the shadows. And for a moment I let it go as I watch him. He wasn't much to look at…as I said before, he was beautiful but I had seen beauty many times. There was nothing that could have attracted me. Until he turned around and looked directly at me.

I drowned in cerulean. And came out stunned and loving him. I did not think it possible. I, who walked far from both the mortal and immortal plane, I, who had never known love before, I who had never thought it possible to fall in love, could not resist his call.

He looked at me with no surprise and smiled…the brightest smile in all of creation and asked. "Good day. Might I ask who you are? And will you be joining me for dinner? The villagers gave me fresh honey."

"You shouldn't talk to strangers." I tell him perfunctorily, trying to recover from this alien emotion inside where once there had been emptiness and this uncommon friendliness he was showing me.

He laughed then, thrilling me with the pure sound. Chimes, his laughter reminded me of the wind chimes. "With all the sorts of people that mother drags in here and those that drop in unannounced, I would think it's a little late for that sort of warning. Now, may I know your name?"

He seemed genuinely friendly and I who had never known camaraderie and friendliness before suddenly did not want him to change just because of who I am. So I lied.

"I am Trowa."

Trowa. It is the name of the last man whose life I had taken. It suited me then to use his name.

His eyes crinkled. "Why hello there, Trowa. Nice to meet you. My name is Quatre."

I had thought that my lie worked when he didn't even blink as I told him my name. He dragged me in to have dinner with him and made small pleasantries. I, being the solitary creature I was, only nodded and made small noises of affirmation.

Finally though I had to ask that one question. Out of curiosity I suppose and partly out of irritation. "Does your mother approve of you venturing out into the world?"

He blinked then answered. "Of course she does. I am safe, anywhere I go. She made sure of that."

The logic was, of course, faultless. All loved him therefore no one would even dare kill him. Still, it did not settle the irritation I felt when I waited for hours in his pavilion. Nor does it settle me to know that he went out.

"What do you do outside? You seemed tired."

He smiled. "Oh odds and ends. I help around the village. Primarily healing. Along with the other gifts my mother gave me, I found out that I could heal people to a certain extent. And when there is no one to heal, I help in the harvest. Its harvest time now you know. Its tiring work, but very fulfilling."

It is my time to be startled. I had never thought that the Mother's last son would ever be anything but pampered and spoiled. Never knew that he would feel compassion for the mortals.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you help them?"

He shrugged. "Because it is the right thing to do, I suppose." Quatre tilted his head. I noticed he did it often whenever he was immersed in thinking. "I never thought about it actually."

His knife twirled aimless patterns on the plate. I never thought he'd take my question seriously.

"Love."

"What?" I did not catch the softly spoken word.

"I said love. Love is why I help them. They have done so much for me, loved me even without me doing anything. Its hard not to love them back."

"Then love them and play with them. But keep your distance. Why concern yourself with the doings of mortals when you are immortal? What you do today will be forgotten tomorrow when their lives are spent and their bodies decayed. They are not worth it." I said it flippantly, a test if I must rationalize what I do, because I almost can believe that this immortal was different from all the others.

It was the first time I ever saw anything but a smile in his eyes as the blue depths blazed forth in righteous anger. "They are human and as such they have a right to be treated with respect. I do not care if immortals view them as some transient species who are only worth the amusement they give. I will not treat them as such!"

I thought at that time that he would attack me with his bare hands. He had been really angry. But he looked at me then and subsided. Maybe he saw how I understood his feelings. That I was unlike any of the immortals he had met before, I who walked alone.

He was different from all the other immortals. He hid it well though in a mask of gaiety that delighted the other immortals. "Coddling them will only make them weak. You realize that." I told him as if nothing had happened in between.

"Not everyone is as strong as you are, Trowa." Quatre said softly. I almost raised an eyebrow at that. He had dined with me for an hour, knew me for an hour, yet he speaks as if he knew me.

"Some people in this world need other people. They need the support the strong can offer. Not everyone can stand on their own two feet. You know that."

At that moment, I knew. I knew why this youth, this immortal beloved of all people, of all the gods, came into this world.

I searched my head to know what to say next. His last reply had disturbed me, pierced me with his conviction. I did not have a response.

All of a sudden he sprang a question.

"So, Trowa, is there any particular reason why you wear your hair like that?"

Silly, nonsensical.

I remember how I blinked in surprise. My hair had never been a subject of conversation before. And I had never put much importance in it. I had let it grow as it will. It just was. Besides I had never cared much for what others thought.

But there, in that candlelit dining hall, it suddenly mattered. HIS opinion mattered. And that perturbed me. Nothing, no one should be able to control me.

But this one did. That was forbidden.

"I have to go."

"So soon? But it was just getting interesting."

"I have to go. I have work to do." And with that I stood up swiftly and took my leave. He followed me, almost running to catch up with my longer stride.

"If it's the hair thing, I can take it back. You needn't answer it." He called out teasingly.

I almost smiled.

At the entrance to the pavilion he stopped and tugged at my flowing robe. "It is a shame that you aren't able to stay. Drop by another time alright?"

I nodded, not wishing to talk, and walked out into the darkness of night. I could have vanished right then but I didn't want him to guess my real identity. In another minute I would vanish from his life and never come back. That was what I had decided.

He did not need to know who I am. Let him go on with the illusion that "Trowa" visited him.

I shouldn't have bothered with the deception.

"Try to be gentle, Trowa. I know it is work but it doesn't hurt to care."

That stopped me in my tracks and I looked at him. Framed in the silvery light of the moon filtering in through the same space the sunlight did, Quatre stood, hugging a marble pillar. He looked at me in all seriousness, his eyes, those infinitely kind eyes, were filled with understanding.

Surely, I thought, he was only making a generalization. He did not know me. And as if he read my mind, he smiled gently, cocking his head to one side as he brushed the soft tendrils that fell into his face.   
  
"I know you, One who Walks Out of Time and Space, Solitary One. God of Death. Know that you are always welcome here."

Welcome…it had been strange to hear the word come from anyone save for the pained sick who welcomed my coming for the release I brought to them.

He knew me and yet he welcomed me into his home. He knew me all the time I spent with him and yet accepted me still, lie and all.

…I did not know what to think of that.

It was at that time that I realized why people loved him dearly. They might first fall in love with him because of his power but they stayed in love with him…for him.

As I knew I would. As I always did.

TBC Is anyone still reading? Ehehehe! Lord of Death Trowa...somehow it just sort of fits. ^^ 


	3. Third Party

deathwish3 Author: Swythangel   
Email: swythangel@hotmail.com   
Title: Deathwish   
Rating: PG (for shounen ai content)   
Warnings: Strong Language, Yaoi, Fantasy AU   
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is owned by Bandai and the person who created the bishounens (who should be worshipped for making   
Quatre) I am just having my fun with them borrowed boys! Ahohoho!   
Archive: In my yaoi site, once its up.

I don't know if I'm making sense at all with this fic but it keeps intruding into my consciousness like it has a life of its own. ^-^ You guys be the judge of it ne?

thanks to everyone who commented.

**Deathwish**   
**Part 2** ****

For the love I bear him, I needed to stop him…wanted to stop him. I want to shake some sense into him and turn him back to what he once was, not this dead uncaring person whose only reason for living is revenge. 

"Quatre, Bright Child!" I call over the expanse that separates us and he stops, the animated corpses stopping with him. I appear in front of him then and his undead servants try to block me from my goal, lurching in a clumsy attempt to walk. 

I do not spare them a glance. I do not need to. After all, I am still ruler of the Nether Realms, eventhough they have been taken out of my power, I still, to an extent, hold them in my thrall. A flickering stare at them and the corpses stop in their tracks and fall to the ground in a tortured scream that sounds more like wind tearing through wood than a scream. 

Binding Spell. One more punishing chain to bind them. I do not want to do this because I know it hurts the souls inside those ravaged bodies, burning them. I can feel them writhe in agony inside. I cannot say sorry. 

Nor does Quatre give me any choice. 

"Does it hurt, Trowa?" I swing my head back to look at Quatre who has a cold smile on his face. "Does it hurt to feel the agonized screams of those people?" 

"Quatre…" 

He goes on as if I did not speak. "I hope it does, Trowa. Because I want you to hurt, I want you to feel the control slip out of your grasp and all you can do is watch helplessly. Will you beg me, Trowa? After all these years of silently trying to stop me from doing this, will you finally beg me to let them go? Like I begged you all those years ago?" 

He raises arms lacerated by a multitude of healed scars crisscrossing over each other, marring once perfect skin the color of alabaster. The result of a hundred failed attempts of tempting my scythe to cut his life. 

_/Trowa, take me! Let me die now. Take me out of my misery. Please!/_

All his cries and pleas stabbed at my heart but never, not even once, did I accede to his request. I could not…would not. 

"I did not have any choice…" Lie of course, a salve to my conscience, though there is truth in it as well. There always is. Every lie has a measure of truth in it, just as every truth had a lie. 

I did have a choice, a limited one. And in a way, I didn't. It is a paradoxical situation that developed because of my sin. 

"You are immortal. You cannot die." 

"Liar!" He screams, the unemotional mask slipping to reveal blazing tearful eyes that brand me with accusations. It sears my insides. "I know the pact my mother made with all living creatures as much as you do, Trowa. You did not fulfill your duty, God of Death! I called you and you did not come." 

The vehemence in his voice is almost palpable in its intensity. But what catches my attention is the hatred I see inside his eyes. Never before has he ever looked at me like that and it drives me back. 

"I…" 

"You came for him easily enough without anyone calling you. There was no difference between my situation and his." 

Him…yes, it all came back to him eventually. 

Him. Duo. A name I curse since the time I met him. 

One supposedly easy task to do, one choice to make…and in the end, a decision gone horribly wrong. 

***   
Duo Maxwell, born on the second island of Lithandre (L2) where strife, poverty and hatred ruled. He had lost his family early in life and grew up inside an orphanage with the High Priest of Mercy. He should have been just one more mortal on the world if not for one thing… 

Duo Maxwell had been gifted with physical splendor. The mortal had been famed for his beauty. Long, rich chestnut hair tied in a braid that fell to his waist, eyes that rivaled the most precious gems, and a lithe, slender body…twas said no living being on earth could surpass him in comeliness. 

Beings from all over came to pay court to him, offering untold wealth and everything he might have wished for. Feted, welcomed, loved.

But he spurned them all. 

Like all creatures he wanted to find love on his own, to be loved for who he was and not what he looked like. Someone should have disabused him of that notion years ago. 

So beautiful was he that even the capricious Goddess of Love herself desired him. Even she, Duo spurned. A foolish thing to do, in my opinion. What use is pride or his ideals if he angered an immortal? 

The Goddess, in exchange for her humiliation, cursed the mortal. And not just any ordinary curse. The Goddess of Love was more vindictive than most gods and put on Duo the heaviest curse of them all. 

Death-bringer. All he touched would instantly turn into ashes and die. In one fell curse, the Goddess tied my fate to his. We were brothers, in a fashion. Though it displeased me to be at the beck and call of a mortal, albeit a very reluctant mortal, I could do nothing to reverse it. What other immortals did, no other immortal could undo. 

He became exile. Not that he could blame anyone, for who would want to be in contact with someone who could bring about one's death in a matter of seconds? 

From loved to feared…in a space of a heartbeat. It proved too much for the youth. He tried to disfigure his face, cursing it for being the root of his troubles. But he couldn't. Along with the death curse, he could never damage himself. A bitter curse to be sure…a capricious and vindictive goddess' vengeance can never be taken lightly. 

Maxwell became a hermit and took to wandering places that did not have anything living in it. A shell of his former self, resembling nothing of the vibrant youth he had been, he became bitter. The bitterness festering his insides with a darkness that threatened his sanity. 

I, being bound to his fate as much as he was to mine, was constantly aware of him and pitied him his fate. It was I who led him to Quatre, knowing that the Bright Child, out of all the beings on this earth, would understand. 

I should never have led him to Quatre. I curse the day I did.

TBC ^_~ Comments onegai?

I know I made Duo into the cliched "shinigami" again but it's a lower position ne? Trowa's still Chief Shinigami ahohoho! I needed to do it, I really do. And this sounds suspiciously like a rationalization doesn't it? ^^ Anyway, I hope you guys are not disappoined.   



	4. Beginning of the End

Author: Swythangel   
  
Email: swythangelhotmail.com   
  
Title: Deathwish   
  
Rating: PG (for shounen ai content)   
  
Warnings: Strong Language, Yaoi, Fantasy AU   
  
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is owned by Bandai and the person who created the bishounens (who should be worshipped for making   
  
Quatre) I am just having my fun with them borrowed boys! Ahohoho!   
  
OMdsajfkldsajfG! Swyth came out with a part of a long dead fic. And Gundam Wing too. Is it a miracle or what?  
  
Deathwish   
  
Part 3  
  
Everything he touched turned to ashes before his eyes, a grotesque imitation of the cycle of life that flowed through every living being 


End file.
